Don't make a fuss, Mr. President

Chapter 8

The rest of the evening passed in a blur.

Mary smiled when she should smile. Nodded when spoken to. Laughed at jokes she didn’t hear. All while her mind raced—*What does he want? Will he take them? Can he?*

Robert noticed. Of course he did. Halfway through dessert, he guided her to a quieter corner near the terrace. “Who was that man?” he asked quietly.

“Just… someone from my past,” she said, staring into her untouched crème brûlée.

“Your *past* looks like he wants to drag you back into it.”

She didn’t deny it.

Robert studied her for a long moment, then sighed. “If you’re in trouble, Mary, tell me. I can help.”

She almost laughed. What could he do against James Fu? The man owned half of Shanghai’s skyline. His word was law in boardrooms and courtrooms alike.

“I’ll handle it,” she said softly.

But even as she spoke, she knew she wouldn’t.

Because James didn’t give people a choice.

---

The gala ended at eleven. Guests drifted toward the valet line, coats draped over glittering shoulders. Mary lingered, pretending to admire a floral arrangement while waiting for Robert to finish speaking with a donor.

She should’ve left with the crowd.

Instead, she found herself alone in the gilded hallway leading to the ladies’ lounge—a secluded corridor lined with antique mirrors and potted orchids.

And there he was.

Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching her with those dark, unreadable eyes.

“Running again?” James asked, voice deceptively calm.

Mary’s back hit the wall behind her. “I’m not running. I’m living.”

“With my children.”

“They’re *mine*.”

“For now.”

The words hung between them, sharp as shattered glass.

She wanted to scream. To slap him. To demand why he’d abandoned them—why he’d let her wake up alone, terrified, with no memory of how she’d gotten there. But fear held her tongue.

James pushed off the wall and took a step closer. “Where are they?”

“Safe.”

“With whom?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It is *every* part of my business.” His voice dropped, rough with something that might have been pain—if she dared to believe it. “Do you have any idea what I went through when you disappeared? When I found out you were pregnant and gone?”

Her breath hitched. “I didn’t—”

“You left *nothing*. No note. No call. Just vanished.” His hand clenched at his side. “And now you’re here, playing house with Robert Chen, acting like I don’t exist?”

“I didn’t know you *cared*!” The words burst out before she could stop them.

Silence.

James stared at her, his expression shifting—something raw flickering beneath the ice. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

“I married you, Mary,” he said quietly. “In a courthouse in Hangzhou. Two days before you disappeared.”

Her blood turned to ice.

*Married?*

No. That couldn’t be right. She would remember—

Wouldn’t she?

“You’re lying,” she whispered.

He pulled a folded paper from his inner jacket pocket and held it out.

Her hands shook as she took it.

It was a marriage certificate. Dated three years ago.

Her signature—familiar, yet foreign—stared back at her.

Beside it, James’s.

“I kept it,” he said. “Hoping you’d come back. Hoping you’d remember.” His voice was barely audible now. “But you didn’t. You came back with *them*… and acted like I was a stranger.”

Tears burned her eyes. “I *am* a stranger to you! I don’t remember any of it—the wedding, the pregnancy, *you*! All I know is that when I woke up, I was alone. Scared. And now you’re here, threatening to take my children—”

“I’m not threatening,” he cut in, stepping closer. So close she could feel the heat radiating off him. “I’m *claiming* what’s mine.”

“And what about *me*?” she choked out. “Am I yours too?”

For the first time, James hesitated.

His gaze dropped to her mouth, then back to her eyes. “You always were.”

The admission hung in the air, heavy with years of unsaid things.

Mary wanted to hate him. She *should* hate him.

But looking at him now—the tension in his shoulders, the shadows under his eyes—she saw not a monster, but a man who’d been just as lost as she was.

“James…” she began.

He reached out, as if to touch her face—

Then stopped himself.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, voice rough. “Nine a.m. At your apartment. We’re going to the airport.”

“What? No—”

“You don’t get to say no,” he interrupted, already turning away. “Not anymore.”

And with that, he walked off, leaving her standing in the empty hallway, clutching a piece of paper that rewrote her entire life.

She was married.

To the man who terrified her.

And he wasn’t letting go.